


Neuken in de Keuken

by hippocrates460



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Because of Hagrid, But deserves good and nice things only, Getting Together, Kitchen Sex, M/M, No chocolate cake was harmed in the making of this fic, Who remains off-screen, coconut oil for lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25318585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippocrates460/pseuds/hippocrates460
Summary: Harry's grand plans of making Hagrid a nice birthday cake are derailed as soon as he tells Snape about them. Now he has to spend his day off baking a cake with the Headmaster. He's nothing if not a Gryffindor though. The cake is happening. Perhaps some other things will happen too.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 13
Kudos: 184





	Neuken in de Keuken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Defenestrationisthekey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defenestrationisthekey/gifts).



> Written for a dear friend on a very special occasion. You're welcome boo [insert kissing emoji]  
> Thank you Lee for the quick and excellent beta!!

Harry grumbles as he stomps down the stairs again, and tries to shake loose his irritation before going into the kitchens. Of course the House-elves have every right to deny them the use of their space, but it is very irritating to have to be in the tiny Headmasters’ kitchen off of Severus’ rooms. “Hello,” he tells the House-elves that greet him. “I have a list of things I need?”

They offer to make the cake for him, but Harry says he wants to make Hagrid happy and they all understand that. So soon enough Harry has a basket filled with eggs, flour, chocolate and a tin.

“Thank you,” he tells Dimpy, who is always lovely to him, Dimpy winks at him and gets back to work, so Harry takes a deep breath and goes up the stairs again. Of course the Headmaster’s quarters are the furthest away from the kitchen that you can get in this stupid castle. Of course stupid Snape wants to make the cake with him, and Harry is not going to back down. Of course Hagrid deserved the five-tiered chocolate cake of his dreams for his birthday, considering he always makes everybody something for theirs.

When Harry steps into the kitchen Severus is smiling at him, smug and slow, like Harry took too long walking a thousand miles up and down the castle. “You can go yourself next time.” Harry complains,  he sets the basket down hard and starts washing his hands.

“We’ll make it in batches.” Severus decides, setting out bowls and what Harry assumes must be a magical mixer.

“I’ve made cake before.” Harry says. It’s been a decade or more, but Severus doesn’t need to know that. He does know, though, or at least his eyebrow is very sceptical.

“Perhaps you can start by measuring out the ingredients.” Severus suggests, nudging the scales over to Harry. “I’ll clean the fruit.”

It’s a jab at Harry’s potions making techniques but Harry is willing to let it slide until he’s going to pour the sugar in with the flour, and Severus' strong hand grabs his wrist out of nowhere. His hands are covered in strawberry juice and now Harry is going to be sticky and honestly – “What did you do that for?”

“You’re meant to cream the butter with the sugar.” Severus says, pointing at the recipe that is right in front of Harry. He’s right, but something about the way he says  _ cream _ makes Harry blush up to his ears.

“Fine.” he grumbles. “I’ll be telling Hagrid what a bitch you were about getting this cake just right.”

“Be a good boy and mind the recipe from now on,” Severus says and dammit. Harry blushes harder, he’s sure the back of his neck must be flushed by now and he hopes Severus won’t notice – knows all is lost when he hears a little chuckle. “I know you’re better at following instructions than this, Potter,” he says, all soft and husky. “Let me know if you require any additional... motivation.”

Harry nearly chokes on it but manages to get the mixer working and the butter is starting to get fluffy when he checks the box of eggs. “Bugger.” he says.

“Must we?” Severus drawls, drawing it out like a complaint, and then he steps in far too close to see what Harry is swearing about. “Ah, indeed.” Three of the eggs are cracked, and they only had two spares.

“We can finish this set first.” Harry suggests. They’re making it in two batches anyway, Snape nods and gets back to work. Soon the first three cake tins have been slid into the oven, and Harry and Snape look at each other as they stand back up from peeking into the oven together.

“It’s your turn to go,” Harry says before Snape can say anything else, and then the arse laughs while he’s still far too close to Harry.

“I shall go,” Severus promises. “As it seems to be impossible for you to walk up a flight of stairs without breaking something.”

He dries his hands on the towel while Harry glares at him, and Harry starts eating the raspberries just to regain some control.

“If you finish all the fruit while I’m gone I will make you fly to Asda to buy some more yourself,” Severus threatens. “Just start melting the chocolate would you? And read the recipe.”

Harry rolls his eyes but gets started on the chocolate. It’s chopped into tiny bits in no time, and with a bit of butter he puts it on the stove, keeping the flame as small as it’ll go. He’s daydreaming a bit when the door creaks open again, Severus crosses the room in three steps and jerks the pan out of his hands.

“Au bain Marie, Potter!” Severus barks, and Harry frowns up at him. “That’s what the recipe says!”

“If you’re keeping an eye on it there is no point, come on Snape.” Harry says, trying to take the pan back without burning himself and somehow, in the process, the egg that Severus was carefully holding in one pale hand hits Harry in the chin hard, and cracks all over his shirt. “For fucks sake!” Harry says, looking down at it, and when he glares up at Severus he sees him biting his lip, his eyes full of light, shaking with the effort of trying not to laugh. Harry reaches behind to the bowl they’d used for the batter that is now starting to smell very nice indeed, and sets the mostly empty bowl upside down on Snape’s head. He only thinks that maybe he shouldn’t be doing this to his boss when he’s already done it, and the soggy leftovers are dripping down over Severus’ robes. 

He expects Snape to be angry, maybe even to cancel the whole cake-baking-plan altogether. He definitely doesn’t expect Snape to calmly take the bowl off, set it down in the sink for washing, and then hang his gross robes over a hook by the door. He’s not wearing anything except his trousers and boots now. His hair is covered, but he just calmly takes out a pan, fills it with water, sets the chocolate pan in it, and then turns around to look at Harry.

“Best go get another egg, Potter,” he says. Harry is too dumbfounded by Severus Snape, without his robes, stirring in a little pan, to say anything.

When Harry comes back up he has brought extra fruit and more eggs than he hopes to need as a peace offering. The elves stared at his egg-covered shirt with expressions of despair and amusement, and Harry feels extra compelled to make a great cake.

Back in the little kitchen he sets the eggs down, very carefully, because all he can think about is how the batter dripping down from Snape’s hair has reached his chest, which is firm and strong-looking, and now covered in chocolate cake batter. The first three cakes are cooling next to the oven, and Harry and Severus step around each other quite carefully as they get another two tins filled and ready. Harry is distracted the entire time by Snape being half-naked, and when they slide the cakes into the oven, stand up again and look at each other, Harry is basically at chocolate-covered nipple height.

So he leans in and licks it. Then steps back in shock, his hands over his mouth, looking up at Severus. Who is again trying not to laugh it seems. “That’s alright,” Severus says. “I’m sure I wasn’t very grateful the first time I saw another person’s torso.”

“Stop it!” Harry whines, “I’m not some blushing virgin! I’m almost thirty!”

Severus chuckles, low and hungry, and that’s what does it. Harry steps in, faster than he should, tangles his fingers in Severus’ hair, and kisses him. He’s been starving for this, he realises vaguely, but really the only thing on his mind is the heat of Severus’ mouth, the way his naked torso feels when Harry’s shirt has been taken off, strong and a bit sticky. Harry pulls Severus down to the floor and fumbles at his trousers, then his pants, then his own pants. He’s panting with need, whining as he jerks his hips up and down, when Severus breaks their kiss, keeps one arm wrapped around Harry, and leans over across the kitchen. He opens a drawer, pulls out coconut oil with a satisfied little grunt, and shows it to Harry.

“Yes,” Harry gasps, rolling over onto his stomach. Severus wastes no time, just slicks himself up, pulls Harry into position so he can lie over him, push into him, and kiss him at the same time. Harry comes onto the kitchen floor with Severus’ hand wrapped around him, Severus’ tongue in his mouth and his cock far enough up his arse he’s sure he can taste it.

Severus groans as he lies down next to Harry, his hair a revolting mess, his cheeks flushed and bright. “Smells like burning,” he says, and it does.

Harry flies to his feet, opens the oven as he tries to get the oven mitts on.

“Shit shit shit,” Harry complains, still naked, as he juggles the too hot pan of goopy chocolate cake batter and then slams it down on top of the stove. It’s burned very badly at the top. “What happened to the temperature?” He wonders as he stares at it, damping sadly.

“It’s... at 300 degrees Celsius,” Severus says from where he’s still lying on the floor but looking at Harry, and Harry coughs as he looks away in embarrassment. “Muggle ovens don’t do that.” Severus remarks, and sure, they can blame it on that.

“We can’t give this to Hagrid.” Harry says, holding the pan up again to distract himself from how wet he’s feeling between his cheeks. Severus slides over, holds his ankle with one strong hand as he looks up at Harry from the floor. “Shame,” Harry says, now looking at Severus. “It smells wonderful.”

“Sit then,” Severus urges. He even summons his robes so Harry can sit on them, between his legs, each of them holding a spoon and digging for bits that are neither too wet nor too burned. Harry gets a bit on his nose, and while Snape tries not to laugh he uses the back of his spoon to paint Severus’ cheek. He licks it clean with great affection until he realises that’s what he’s doing. Then he leans back.

“Can we do this again?” Harry asks, and Snape nods. Kisses him back.

“We’ll shower first,” Severus tells him, and that is a great idea. “And then we’ll try again. Hagrid deserves a cake for all that he does for us.”

“You’re a softy.” Harry concludes, happy with the taste of chocolate and the warmth of Severus and the soreness and satisfaction of sex.

Severus hums around his spoon and looks at Harry from the corner of his eyes. “No one will ever believe you.”


End file.
